


That Father; Resurrection

by PandoraButler



Series: That Butler Series [3]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Backstory, Book of Atlantic, F/M, Frankenstien-ish, M/M, backstory kinda, boa - Freeform, headcannons, my own time line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/pseuds/PandoraButler
Summary: The Undertaker has continued on with his life after the death of Vincent Phantomhive, (although his sanity has been dwindling). He attempts to revive the late earl, only to realize that he had never died to begin with. No, Vincent is alive, but alive in the body of Sebastian Michaelis: the demon that The Undertaker hates the most.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third and final book in the series! :3 Enjoy!~

_Vincent lay on the floor of his manor confused and delirious from the smoke that prohibited his oxygen intake. The fire burned around him, blinding his vision. However, from among the shadows he could see a figure, but couldn't recognize who exactly it was._

_"Michael?" Vincent called out, wishing that it might be the demon. Unfortunately, there wasn't a shred of his luck left in the world for it to be so._

_The figure split into two, a blue-haired boy with an eye-patch in which Vincent recognized to be his son, and a male dressed in black who had an aura similar to his Michael's. Could these two be from the future? Was this what they would become?_

_Vincent shook his head, shaking the idea away. With that, he found himself standing in his office, watching as Ciel played with a black dog. Michael, clearly Michael, from the looks of it. Vincent stared at the boy, he was much older, strange, he hadn't reached that age yet. Vincent shrugged his shoulders and went along with the scene, unsure of if it mattered, quickly forgetting that just moments ago, he had seen an even older version of Ciel._

_The scenery changed yet again, Vincent was back in the suffocating room burning in flames. Surprisingly, the smoke didn't hinder him this time, it was an odd situation. Wasn't he supposed to be dying? It didn't seem like he was dying at all..._

_That immediately changed, as soon as he even thought for a moment he was safe, the flames began to move on their own. Each flame grabbed a limb of his and slowly pulled his body apart. It stung, it burned, it tortured him, and there was no one to save Vincent's poor soul, not a single human or creature to help._

_..._

_Vincent woke up from his nightmare in a cold sweat. He sat up in his bed and ran a hand through his hair. His heart-rate was so high it felt as if the organ was to break a hole in his chest and fall out. Vincent tried to calm himself, he tried to take deep breaths and remain as quiet as possible._

_Turning to his side, he saw his wife, sleeping soundly, unaware of the terrible dream he'd just experienced. This had been happening ever since before their wedding and had only been getting worse as the nights went by. Each time he dreamed, it would always be in a different order, but the overall result was the same. He'd see his son and a man dressed in black, then he'd be burned alive by the flames in his own manor. There was always a breaking point of peace, a happy memory with his son much older than he really was. That was part of the dream Vincent could always remember, even if the rest of it was forgotten._

_The father grabbed the notebook and pen next to his bed, he tried to write down as accurately as possible what had taken place. Each night he would do this, he'd try to write but as soon as he picked up the pen, he'd forget the details of the dream. It was magic almost. Someone was warning him of what was to come but someone else was taking that warning away. Vincent never understood this. Why couldn't he remember and try to keep it from happening?_

_His wife, Rachel, stirred on her side of the bed. She rolled over to face Vincent, wondering why he was awake at such an hour._

_"Did you have another nightmare?" she asked, even though she knew the answer._

_"Yes," Vincent said, "they are only getting worse I'm afraid."_

_Rachel looked at him, pity showing in her eyes. Moonlight shined through the single window in their bedroom. She looked beautiful, but that didn't change the fact she couldn't do a bit of good for her husband._

_"What a funny couple we are," she chuckled lightly, "me and my poor health and you," she smiled bringing her hand up to his cheek, "with your never-ending nightmares. Will we ever be completely happy, my love?"_

_Vincent smiled back at her, however his heart was not in it. Rachel was a wonderful women, that much was true, "I do hope so..."_

_..._

_Vincent felt it as his own soul escaped his body, as Michael consumed him. It was a strange feeling. He wasn't in pain, but being removed from his own corpse was an idea that Vincent couldn't fathom. It was strange, too strange. He was dead but yet he wasn't. He was in an awkward state of in-between life and death. Was this the feeling all those before him had gone through? To be consumed by a demon, was it always this relaxing? Why were they screaming then? Was Michael purposefully being kind to him? Vincent wished to think that he was...that all of his years watching over this demon weren't for naught._

_So this was what it was like, to be doomed to a life without heaven or hell..._

_Vincent stared through the eyes of his demon Michael. He was there every step of the way, watching as the demon searched for his son, as Michael tried to fulfill Vincent's wish._ _He watched as his son was tormented, as Michael waited for the right time to drop in. He watched as Michael made the contract with his son. Vincent wanted to slap the demon so badly, for misinterpreting what he meant. He didn't want this for his child, he didn't want him to die. Why was he being so stupid? Vincent just wanted his son to be happy, to be alive and well. However, would his son really be happy in a world without him? Without his mother? Without his family? And what of Elizabeth...they'd been engaged from a young age, would he rely on her? Would he fall in-love with her? Would he end up falling in love with someone new?_

_The father watched over his son, for a few years after the contract was made. He was proud but disappointed at the same time. It was hard being a parent, especially being a **dead**  parent. Vincent couldn't help Ciel, he could only watch as his son grew, as his son became more empty from the contract. _

_The best times were the times in which the two went to The Undertaker, Vincent wanted so desperately to reach out and touch him, to tell him he could still see and hear him. He wanted to tell The Undertaker his revenge wouldn't hold much merit either, (no matter how sexy it was of him to threaten the now demon butler)._

_I'm sure you could imagine Vincent's excitement when he realized that it **was**  possible for him to communicate with Michael in his dreams. Even if it was only one occasion, even if it was only an instance, it had still been possible. Vincent was thrilled with this new development. He had finally been able to assist the idiotic demon after all of these years! _

_Vincent continued to experiment with what exactly he was able to do from inside the demon's body. He hadn't managed to invade the demon's dreams again but he had managed to eject himself from Michael's body and enter a painting. The time in which he could spend in the painting was extremely limited, because without the demon's shell, Vincent's soul would truly disappear from the world forever. It was still ever so thrilling, Vincent enjoyed the brief conversation with his son, even if Ciel didn't really think it was possible for it to be him._

_As the young earl and the butler continued their journey, Vincent was there observing on most occasions. Sometimes he would sleep inside the demon, when things were getting too 'intimate' between the two males or just when he was bored._

_He continued to wait, for the moment in which he'd be useful again._

_And that moment had almost arrived._


	2. That Father; Reappearance

During the time in which Vincent was dead, The Undertaker had never stopped meddling in the ways of the humans. What causes death? Truly? What is it that makes the dead...well... _dead_? Are we all just doomed to that fate? Is there no purpose to the humans than to die? Is there a life after death? Even though The Undertaker was a reaper himself, he wasn't sure what happened to those unlike him. To the ones that didn't commit suicide, the ones that died either naturally, accidentally, or by someone else's hand. On another note, what exactly was the point in reaping souls? Sure, The Undertaker had reached certain conclusions on the subject but overall, he knew nothing. 

Or perhaps, he knew everything and it was simply his current delusions that kept him from understanding the truth. He had reached madness, insanity, this crazed reaper was no longer human and no longer a reaper. What was he then? Surely not a demon. Demons would refuse to accept him as one of their own. So, with nothing left but angel (which we can certainly rule out as well) what would that make him? Would he just become a sorrow-filled man with no hopes? Would he become a different sort of empty shell then the one the young earl was fated to be?

'Bizarre Dolls' was what they had become to be known by. He didn't care what they were called, it was honestly just his failed attempt at bringing back the dead. Without Vincent's body to experiment on, he had to find other things to work with, (not that he would experiment on his love's body anyway). What better way then to use the subjects in which he had supposedly buried? It wasn't hard to steal the bodies of those he preformed funerals for. The best part was, after all of his experimenting and research, people would never recognize the person. However, this would not help him in his endeavor to bring back Vincent Phantomhive, but anything that brought him closer to finding the secret of life was better than nothing at all. 

"Oh this isn't good, nope, to think that they would follow me here on this boat. Quite the coincidence, is it not?" The Undertaker looked outside the small window of his room on this massive ship. Soon he would travel to a bigger room in which he would meet with the demon and reapers head on, "I expected the young earl and his butler, but the reapers are going to give me much trouble. I don't very much appreciate this, I only wanted to play with some dolls, maybe kill a demon too. I didn't need the reapers butting into my lovely game."

Yes, a game, this could no longer really be called a plot for revenge or a scheme to bring back the father of Ciel Phantomhive. Truly, all this was, was an elaborate game to The Undertaker. It gets boring by your lonesome inside a room with nothing but the corpses of humans who you didn't even know. What better way to pass the time than this? Even if it had started with good intentions, it was now nothing but an obsession.

So, as he stood in that large room, in that large boat set to sink, it was only natural that he'd get into a fight and have some fun, more specifically start an idiotic situation to make him laugh. After all, what kind of place would the world be without laughter? The Undertaker had forgotten what it was to laugh from the bottom of his heart. Even with the jokes he required as payment and the various chuckles that escaped his mouth, there wasn't anything that brought him back to the days in which he laughed with Vincent. It was laughter like that he wished for but could not have any longer.

"I suppose it is time I reveal to you all, and the young earl, my true nature," The Undertaker grinned in that usual fashion, as he flung his coat out, sotoba, many of them, were seen attached to the cloak. These were his weapons, he didn't rely on just the skull scythe. Grell, seeing this as a danger to himself and Ronald, attacked. He became confused as to why his own scythe didn't break them, could not piece together the fact this man was also a reaper. The two continued their attacks on each other, everyone in the room remaining dumbfounded, except the demon, who had already known. Sebastian, who had remembered the threat given to him by The Undertaker, wondered if this was a part of his revenge. 

The Undertaker brought his hand to his head, he held up his fringe and showed them all, those chartreuse phosphorescent eyes of his, reaper eyes. Ciel stared in awe at them, he felt as if he had seen this before. Leic, in the back of his mind laughed at his stupidity, he'd never bothered to tell Ciel the story of Anderson Rivers, or rather, Adrian Crevan and Vincent Phantomhive. Leic had no interest in helping Ciel through his life, what would be the point? He loved seeing the young boy fail. It was all that he wished for, considering he stole Stephy from him.

"Were you behind this, Undertaker?" Ciel yelled at him.

"Oh? Well, that's a secret," The Undertaker winked, "or at least that is what I wish to say. You see, this whole thing is so amusing, you've paid me quite enough to be entitled to that information."

"Why would you do this?! Try to revive the dead?" Ciel demanded.

"Why not? Is a more appropriate question," The Undertaker chuckled, "curiosity is a strange thing. Haven't you ever wondered what would happen? If you tried to bring back those who have 'died'...to think, I could make these bodies move just by giving them false cinematic records," he said. The Undertaker would never tell Ciel of his true purpose in trying to find a way to revive Vincent Phantomhive, that would be too awkward of a conversation.

"These 'Bizare Dolls' are just empty beings without a purpose. They attack anything near them and try to steal their soul, which has proven to be impossible. Unfortunately, I have yet to create a 'soul' and my attempts to create life from death are still a failure. These creatures are neither alive nor dead," The Undertaker explained, "Interesting, is it not? What some experimentation can do?"

"You're perverse," Ciel glared at him. The reapers, Ronald and Grell, were equally disgusted with this male before him. Those two, like much of the other reapers in the Dispatch Society, didn't understand his reasoning at all. Tis a shame. 

And so the game continued. Ronald, Grell, and Sebastian all attacked him for their own purposes. The Undertaker, who really had no interest in the reapers, was thrilled that Sebastian would really try to take him for the sake of appeasing the queen. Ciel would do his father proud, being such a good watchdog.

The boat shook, it was about time for it to sink. The Undertaker ran towards Ciel, Sebastian frowned and tried to stop him from reaching his young master. He failed, unfortunately and the boy was almost thrown to the depths of the ocean. Sebastian fell into the reaper's trap. The Undertaker summoned his unique scythe and impaled the demon right through his chest. Sebastian reached out for Ciel, during all of this, and just barely reaching his young master's hand.

"Show me, demon, the truth," The Undertaker was pleased. He could finally see what happened that night, the truth behind why Sebastian had eaten Vincent's soul. Was there any sort of fragment remaining of it? Anything at all? 

Vincent, who had been silently observing all that had happened, wept from within the demon. He cried and cried, wishing there was something he could have done to help The Undertaker in some way. If only he hadn't died the way he did, then none of this would have happened. Ciel wouldn't have been forced to grow up so quickly, he wouldn't be on this pitiful quest for revenge. The Undertaker wouldn't have gone back to experimenting with the dead and they all could have lived out their lives peacefully. How he wished that could have been so.

The Undertaker watched the record go by, he witnessed this demon's life as 'Sebastian' it wasn't very interesting and it didn't tell him anything that he wished to know. Angry with the demon for being so useless, he tore his scythe out and retreated. He would have to think of something else now. Should he try and target the young earl next? Would it be possible to use the son of Vincent in order to bring Vincent back? Well...he could always try, couldn't he?

The demon had barely managed to grab his young master's hand, he brought Ciel close to him, hugging him tightly, before falling into the ocean together. Finding something to drift on wasn't difficult and soon they would manage to reach safety once more. A rescue ship was heading towards them, they just had to survive till then. Being a butler was such a troublesome job, his young master was always getting into danger.

"What was his purpose in all of this?" Ciel asked. Sebastian remained silent. This situation was something he needed to fix, a problem between himself and The Undertaker. Ciel shouldn't have been involved in it.

Vincent sighed, wiping his tears away. How foolish his demon and reaper were. None of this was going to bring him back, none of it was going to help anyone for that matter. Couldn't they just let bygones be bygones? The answer however, he knew would be 'no'. Vincent took a deep breath and made a promise to himself, he would have to start preforming his own experiments, just how far could he go inside Sebastian's body? What was the limit to what he could do?


	3. That Father; Renewal

"Sebastian," Ciel spoke. The butler didn't respond to him, instead he continued to look at his hand, confused, like it wasn't supposed to be there. Why is it, that after any sort of major event, Sebastian would always do this? Zone out? Was it some sort of demon thing?

" _Sebastian_ ," Ciel repeated. Sebastian looked towards him, flashing the boy that idiotic smile of his. How long have they known each other? And he still does this? Ciel suppressed his urge to get up and slap the male.

"Yes, My Lord?" he said.

"What in the blazes are you looking at! Stop staring off into space and give me my tea already!" Ciel huffed. His butler was acting strangely ever since the incident on that boat, typical. What could he be thinking about? They were supposed to be closer than this but somehow, they felt further apart. Ciel closed his eyes and sighed, there must be something he can do to fix this development, but what?

_Why don't you turn this problem over to me? I'd love to talk to my lovely demon again..._

Ciel furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, replying to the thought inside his head.

_I thought you weren't going to be bothering us anymore, Leic._

_Yes, yes, but I just figured I'd offer. You didn't forget about me, did you? Besides...I could give you some special information about your father's friend, The Undertaker. Wouldn't you like to know a bit about who he was before turning into a reaper?_

_Just go away you damned nuisance! There is no need for you here, **ever**._

Sebastian ignored the fact that Ciel was mumbling to himself and placed the tray of tea on his desk. The two were in Ciel's study, as usual, trying to figure out their next move. What should they do about The Undertaker? They couldn't just let him continue playing with the dead...well they could, but Ciel felt obligated to knock some sense into his father's close friend. 

The butler resumed his staring contest with his hand, he wiggled his fingers and formed a fist. It was odd, just recently as he had been picking up the tea, it felt as if his hand had a mind of his own. Was it just his imagination? 

"Maybe I'm finally growing old?" Sebastian muttered to himself.

The young earl sipped his tea quietly, staring at his butler. There was definitely something going on, "Sebastian? Are you quite sure you're alright?"

"I don't really know," Sebastian answered.

...

The Undertaker looked at the building, he hadn't gone back to this place since the death of Vincent Phantomhive. There was no point to visiting just an imitation of what was once there. He had to admit though, the demon did do a good job in replicating it. The Undertaker walked up to the manor, he rested his hand on the bricks. They really  _did_  feel like they had back then, kind of freaky actually.

Now, if his information was right, Ciel's room was Vincent's old room. Like father like son. Considering The Undertaker used to crawl into Vincent's room a lot at night, this, theoretically, should be easy for him. The silver-haired male should be able to crawl up the vines, enter in the window, steal the young earl, and leave as if nothing ever happened. 

However, there was still the demon to worry about.

Well, no matter, The Undertaker managed to beat him up before, he could do it again if need be.

Smiling to himself as he climbed up the wall, The Undertaker couldn't care less about the remaining fragments of his conscience. What was the point in having that? He had important discoveries to discover. Important people to revive.Places to be, things to do. Consciences weren't needed.

The Undertaker opened the window, listening to it creak, he carefully entered the room, hoping the noise wouldn't wake the young earl. Wandering over to the bed, he hovered over the boy, admiring him. Ciel looked so much like his father, well soon he would be his father, the perfect copy at least.

The ex-reaper took out the bottle hiding within his pocket, it was just a little something to make sure the young earl stayed asleep, perfectly harmless. It would be bad for him to wake up as The Undertaker carried him out the window, right? He opened the bottle and nearly managed to pour it into Ciel's mouth, when the young earl's hand grabbed his. The Undertaker tilted his head in confusion, this wasn't Ciel, he smelled different.

"You are not the Earl Phantomhive," The Undertaker deduced.

"Oh? I was hoping you'd be a little more surprised then that Andy," The Undertaker frowned at the nickname, not understanding why someone would get his name so obviously wrong. At least they got the 'A' part right...

"Don't tell me you don't know who I am!" the impostor sighed, "what is it with you long-living beings and your inability to remember important persons?"

The Undertaker remained silent. He only had one important person, Vincent Phantomhive. To who, or what, exactly was this stranger speaking of? 

The impostor sat up to trace the scar around The Undertaker's neck, "do you remember how you got this? Do reapers ever remember the terms of their death?" he inquired. 

"Impossible," The Undertaker replied, "how can you be here Leic?" he tried to hide his excitement, the situation thrilled him to no end. To think, that someone who had died so long ago, could be reincarnated! It was wonderful news! That meant that, even if The Undertaker couldn't bring Vincent back...he could just wait till Vincent came back to him! Not that he wouldn't keep trying, consider this a Plan Z if you will. There were still a few faults with this, for example, was it possible for a soul consumed by a demon, to be reincarnated? Had Leic also been consumed? Or was it just Vincent entirely? Maybe it didn't matter? The Undertaker hoped it wouldn't.

"I can assure you, that this is really me," Leic answered.

"You've changed," The Undertaker observed. Was it the time? Did his soul somehow evolve? Or did something change him? 

Leic looked, almost dumbfounded. Why  _wouldn't_  he have changed? Time changes people, especially people that have had to grieve. This man, was an undertaker for crying out loud! How did he not know the most obvious thing? Considering, he himself was the one that had changed the most out of the two. Not just in appearance, but in personality as well. 

This individual, who had taken control of the sleeping Ciel, slapped The Undertaker. The silver-haired male rubbed his now red cheek, wondering where that had come from.

"Of course I changed you idiot!" tears filled his eyes, he dug his nails into the wrist he still hadn't let go of, "I could never recover from your... _your_..." silence fell between the two. Leic didn't want to say it, saying it would just send him back to the past.

"I see," The Undertaker smiled, he couldn't help it. He didn't think that he would be missed, it was silly of him to think he wouldn't be. What a strange set of circumstances the two had lived through, to get here, in this room, at this time.

The door opened, Sebastian stood there, he'd finally sensed The Undertaker's presence, "Young Master?!"

The room was empty, with only the window open ajar. Sebastian had sworn he sensed the reaper, if he hadn't then, what was it? Just his imagination? Paranoia? The butler walked over to the bed, checking just for peace of mind. Sure enough, Ciel Phantomhive laid there, sleeping soundly. Sebastian closed the window.

_I know I sensed something._

The Undertaker managed to escape and leave the estate, all in good time. Quite proud of himself, for outsmarting the demon, he walked back to his shop. Despite what he had done with the dolls, the boat, his constant attempts at reviving the dead, there were little to no reapers coming after him, or anyone else for that matter. Considering his plan to steal Ciel had failed, and the fact that he didn't really wish to do it anymore (the body wasn't as pure as The Undertaker wished it to be, Leic could cause some problems he didn't want to address), the reaper had to come up with a new approach. 

He hadn't quite worked out all of the minor details, but let's just say it would require  _a lot_  of grave-digging...


	4. That Father; Rebirth

An alchemist once stated that, broken down to its basest components, the average  _adult_   _human_   _body_  is comprised of Water (35 L), Carbon (20 kg), Ammonia (4 L), Lime (1.5 kg), Phosphorous (800 g), Salt (250 g), Saltpeter (100 g), Sulfur (80 g), Fluorine (7.5 g), Iron (5 g), Silicon (3 g) and fifteen traces of other elements. These simple components are what make up the organs, the tissues, the entirety of the human beings as we know them. 

So, if it is this simple, if they can be broken down and understood, if  _we_  are just a combination of these components, why shouldn't it be possible to  _revive_  an individual? What makes humans so special? That science, and some reaper tech, can't bring one back?

This was the question that The Undertaker had tried to answer. He'd spent weeks, months even, digging up graves, stealing organs, if there was something he felt he needed, he'd hate it. That was just how sad of a state his mind was in, that he would steal the body parts of decomposing flesh, just to create the perfect replica. 

Just to create an imitation of Vincent Phantomhive.

There was a logical thought process to this madness, even though there didn't seem to be. You see, there wouldn't be a point in trying to create a soul, if there wasn't a vessel for it to inhabit. So, he just had to create the perfect vessel. Having managed to do this, to create a good replica, with little to no stitching scars...The Undertaker was proud of his creation. He no longer cared about the minor details. In fact, if the body never moved, he would still be content.

The Undertaker hovered over his creation, his long hair resting on the body. Smiling, he spoke to it as if it could hear, "now how should I try and wake you up today? My sleeping beauty..." The Undertaker had tried multiple methods so far, none of them had worked obviously. Now it was just a trial and error, he was enjoying himself, thinking every attempt he tried just made him one step closer...closer to getting Vincent back...

"There is supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight, you know?" The Undertaker ran his hand through the creation's hair, petting him gently, "perhaps it will be useful when everything else wasn't..."

The ex-reaper had crafted a long metal rod and attached it to the top of his shop. The rod, in his own little theory, would be struck by lightning. Once this took place, his system of metal and moisture running down his shop all the way to the body, would conduct the electricity and bring this creation to 'life.' It was a stretch, but with some reaper-intuition, and thorough study, he felt it might just work. Who is to say that he couldn't try? He'd tried everything else! If it failed, at least he could say it was for the good of science, no? After all, this was the very thing that he had been obsessing over...this was the very thing that he desired. If it came down to it, and all that remained was his belief that Vincent would come back, that was enough. 

He just needed a miracle.

The rain began to drop from the sky. It fell softly, drizzling the ceiling with it's kind presence. However, soon after it began pour. The rain became vengeful, the wind became cruel. The Undertaker laughed to himself, to the creature, to the world. Soon, the lightning would strike, it had to. It must. For if it didn't, what else could he possibly try?

The thunder rumbled, the lightning struck. It traveled, like The Undertaker predicted. He had separated himself from the creature when the rain had started, he had watched with glee as the body shook from his plan. His masterpiece should be brought to life. It should work. It had to work.

_It would work._

It would work, simply because it  _must_  work. The heavens themselves thought they must end this poor man's attempts at reviving the dead. They felt they should at least let him suffer the consequences of his meddling...for who else would be able to convince him? But his own creation?

The Undertaker clapped his hands at the sight, watching till the very last moment. He feared that if he closed his eyes, if he doubted for a second, the entire thing would be jeopardized. He had faith. He had hope. There wasn't anything else he needed, or there shouldn't be.

The reaction ended.

The Undertaker bit his nails in anticipation.

Now what? Should he just wait? Should he sit in this safe-ish spot for the rain to end? Then see what damage he had caused? What if he had just ended up frying his hard work? Dare he think it, but what if this was truly for naught? 

The Undertaker listened for the rain, it seemed to stop now, strange that it was so generous to him, doing exactly what he wished. The Undertaker rushed to his creature, did it work? Was he going to move? Why hadn't he moved yet? 

" _Please_..." he whispered. The Undertaker knelt by the table in which the creation lay. To an outsider looking in, it would be as if he was praying, mourning the body. But he wasn't, he was just wishing that his hard work paid off. 

Otherwise, what was the point? What was the meaning of his existence? Of all the time that he had spent? What would be his excuse? His reasoning? His hope for the future?

The Undertaker felt the body stir, he looked up at it, wondering if it had just been his imagination. Did it really work? Had all of this paid off? Had he actually managed to replicate The Earl Phantomhive?

The body sat up, groggily, barely able to move at all.

_But it was moving._

The Undertaker stood up on his own two feet, watching intensely at his creation. He was unsure, should he think this is a success or no?

"Vincent?" he whispered. The body looked at him, blinking slowly, carefully, almost unsure of its own existence. Was he really alive? Was he really seeing out of these eyes? The creature looked at his own hands, the hands that were stolen from someone else. The creature stared at himself, his body, his clothes. Was this what it was like to be alive? 

The creature turned, to look at The Undertaker, he opened his mouth, trying to formulate a sentence. No sound would escape him. It was some time before he'd even managed to grunt.

"U...n...y?" he attempted. 

The Undertaker smiled, laughing in that crazed fashion he'd grown accustomed to. He jumped for joy, clapping in glee. He had done it!  _He had done it!_ Sure, it wasn't perfect...but he had still managed to create life from death! He was truly a Death God now! The Undertaker hugged his creation, crying tears of joy. 

He'd finally gotten Vincent Phantomhive back, even if it was just an imitation...


	5. That Father; Resurgence

The Undertaker was thrilled with his new creation; with his imitation Earl. He was happy, amazed,  _enthralled_  with its very existence. However, this did not last for long. Over time, after the creation learned how to manage itself; after The Undertaker no longer could teach it...The Undertaker grew tired of the very thing he had tried so hard to create. 

It was sad. It was heartbreaking. This creature was  _not_  the Vincent Phantomhive he yearned for! This creature was nothing like him! They weren't even comparable! How could he have been so blind? So stupid? The creature had no personality; it was living but it was not. It was alive but it was dead. It moved but it didn't. The creature was little more than a Bizarre Doll, doing everything that The Undertaker suggested it do.

A complete failure.

The Undertaker had an assumption that this might take place. He'd felt it in his bones. He knew the risks, but now that it had actually happened he felt so  _disappointed_. What should he do? He had gotten what he wanted but at the same time...it wasn't  _anything_  like what he wanted. So, what  _did_  he want? With this thing that he made? What did he expect of it? Affection? Feelings? A mind of its own to rebel against him? 

What was it that The Undertaker hoped for?

" _Oh, my poor Undertaker, I can't believe you have fallen this far. Did you really think you could replicate me?_ " Vincent spoke. The Undertaker flinched, he turned around and stared at his creation. It wore that same expression it always wore. There was no way that it had just spoken to him. He must be imagining Vincent's voice. Yes, that must be it. This creature barely said a word since the night of his birth. Why would he start speaking rebelliously now?

Shaking his head to try and get the voice out, The Undertaker turned around once more. He got back to work. There was a big funeral coming up. There was much to be done. He had made and remade hundreds of coffins trying to make the  _right_  one. This was his job. This was his hobby. He couldn't let the voice of Vincent distract him. He had ignored it before. He could ignore it again.

" _You really must face the facts Undertaker. It isn't that hard. Just accept that I am no more. Please, do that, for me?_ " The Undertaker heard the voice again. He refused to fall for the same trick twice. There was the possibility that his creation created a personality, but, wouldn't he have done that sooner though? That is, if such a thing was possible.

His mind must have decided to cease haunting him, for he didn't hear anything else. The creature appeared and placed a cup of tea next to him, causing The Undertaker to jump. There was something off about today. Just something that he wouldn't be able to get over. It was weird. He needed to fix whatever was wrong but he didn't know how.

Taking the cup, he placed it near his mouth. The creature's expression never changed. He always wore that same pitiful smile. He wasn't happy but he wasn't sad. His eyes were dead, expressionless. The creature didn't  _feel_  anything at all, it seemed. If it did, it didn't know what such emotions were. The Undertaker wished he could teach it emotions, but he didn't know how. Every occasion that he had tried to touch it, tried to make some sort of affectionate gesture, he was never able to follow through. Something within The Undertaker stopped him. It was strange, very strange, but it was the truth.

"Do you like it?" the creature asked. The Undertaker stared, amazed, he hadn't done that before. He'd rarely opened his mouth since the time he said 'Uny.' Was this improvement? Had it just taken this long for his creature to become alive, fully? No, The Undertaker shouldn't become too excited. This was nothing. This was just, a fluke? Perhaps?

"You've gotten a lot better at making tea," he said. The Undertaker wasn't sure if responding would make the creature speak more, but, he hoped that it might. The Undertaker was just about to give up hope on the thing! He was losing faith! And now, the creature had spoken! This was a miracle! Just when he was about to get rid of it, the fake did something interesting! That quality reminded him of Vincent. Vincent was always coming back, just at the wrong time, when The Undertaker was about to give up his feelings for good. 

"I'm glad," the creature smiled. Was it happy? Really? Had it actually begun to feel emotions? The Undertaker stared, even more amazed. In his bewildered state, The Undertaker dropped his cup. It fell into his lap. It burned, but, in his excitement, he didn't notice. The creature stared at the tea on The Undertaker's robe. It reached out its hand to touch the liquid. No sensation. It wasn't hot to the creature, but, the creature knew that it would be hot for The Undertaker, so, the creature tried to take off The Undertaker's robe. 

The ex-reaper swatted the creature's hand away. "What are you doing! You'll hurt yourself!" The Undertaker glared beneath his fringe. He didn't care about himself; he just cared about his precious creation. Strange, considering he was having thoughts about getting rid of it completely just a few moments ago.

"Uny," the creature frowned, "you can't do that! You'll get burned! I'm just trying to help!" the creature defended himself. For a moment, The Undertaker saw Vincent. No. This couldn't be. This wasn't an exact replication. Was it? This couldn't be a success. Could it? Well, what other explanation was there? The creature had started talking. The creature had started showing emotions. It had taken such a long time, but, here it was...

"I-I'll be fine," The Undertaker assured. His mind and his tongue were disconnected. Too many theories were running through his brain. What was going on? What should he do? Why couldn't he form a good sentence?

"You should look after your body," the creature sighed, looking down at its own ugly hands, "you only have one, Uny..." The Undertaker almost thought the creature was going to cry. So, it knew that it wasn't a normal being. It knew that it was just a combination of multiple bodies put together. Even though it had never gone outside. Even though it had never seen other 'humans.'

The Undertaker reached out his hand to touch the creature's face. The creature looked up, shocked, not used to the idea of The Undertaker touching him, "you're my precious creation. If you'd like me to be more careful, I'll try."

The creature smiled softly. He hadn't been called beautiful by The Undertaker before. The creature thought for sure that The Undertaker hated him. It thought for sure that The Undertaker wasn't satisfied with what he created. So, it tried extra hard to please him.

"Thank you," the creature said. He had a feeling that things were going to get better around here. But, he also had a feeling that they were going to get worse too...


	6. That Father; Revival

There was a storm. A massive storm. A giant storm. A giant  _massive_  storm. A storm so big that it caused the demon himself to awaken. Even though he didn't need it, the demon had been sound asleep. Chills. He was scared. Of what? What could a demon possibly be afraid of? Why did the thunder awaken him? What was going on? Why was this happening?

The stab wound. Was it still here? Sebastian tore open his shirt and felt his stomach. No. There was no mark. There wasn't a single scratch. But. He could still  _feel_  himself being stabbed by that scythe. By that reaper. The Undertaker had  _wounded_  him. It was the first time, in a long time, that Sebastian had ever  _felt_  such a thing. He'd been alive all of these years, and, that  _reaper_  had managed to do  _this_. To do  _that._

Where was the logic? Where was the reasoning? Why could The Undertaker do such a thing? Surely the wound wasn't  _that_  bad. It wasn't. Sebastian survived. There was no way a simple thing like  _that_  could kill him.  _Right_? Right. So, what was he so worried about? 

Lightning struck. Sebastian flinched. He heard the sound of Ciel screaming. If  _he_  had been scared, why did he expect Ciel wouldn't be? The butler jumped out of the bed and rushed to his master's room. Ciel was huddled in many blankets. He was curled up in a little ball rocking back and forth. Terrified. 

"W-who's t-there?"

"It's me," Sebastian stated. The boy stopped rocking and looked up. He couldn't find the words to explain what he had been  _feeling_. He couldn't find the words to tell Sebastian what he had  _felt_. This storm wasn't like anything he'd experienced before. There was something ominous about it. Something bad. Something miserable.  _He could almost feel the dead being brought to life._ No ordinary dead man. No. Something else. Something  _worse_. Ciel was frightened. 

_Something's coming. Something bad. But what?_

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Ciel. They hugged each other as the rain poured outside. The wind blew. The rain cried. Sebastian feared that the window would fly open. It did. Sebastian hurried over to close it. The rain was coming in fast. He was drenched in no time. The lightning flashed again. This time, Ciel noticed that Sebastian's shirt was torn. He was worried. He was scared. What happened to it? Did someone attack him? If so, who?f

The butler closed the window and took off his shirt. It was too wet to wear. He didn't want Ciel to catch a cold, that is, if the boy still felt the need to cling to him. "Why was your shirt torn?" Ciel asked. His voice was quiet. Sebastian was reminded of the frail child he had first met so many years ago. The child that played with him, while he was disguised as a dog, Michael. He missed being Michael. And yet, he didn't. Michael was a thing of the past. He was Sebastian now. Well, one could say, that he was Sebastian then too.

"I-" Sebastian paused. He wasn't sure how to answer this question. What should he say? That could satisfy Ciel? He didn't wish to admit that he was afraid of dying. No. That was ridiculous. That wound wasn't a fatal one for him.

"Come here," Ciel stated. Sebastian did so. The butler stood beside the bed. He didn't sit down, his wetness would ruin the sheets. Ciel frowned. He examined Sebastian's bare chest carefully. There must have been  _something_  there that bothered the demon enough to tear his shirt open. Ciel reached out, to touch Sebastian's chest, he flinched in response. Ciel had just  _barely_  touched where Sebastian had been stabbed. He hadn't even placed a finger on him, but, Sebastian flinched. How rude of a butler to do so. 

"I've always found it amazing that you don't scar," Ciel stated, "but there is an imaginary scar here, isn't there?" 

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play the fool with me Sebastian. I know you've been acting strangely since we got back from that ship ride. Something has been wrong. I can feel it. I can  _sense_  it. So, what has been bothering you?" 

Sebastian remained silent. Only the sound of the harsh rain outside could be heard, along with the occasional noise of the water dripping from Sebastian's body. Although, it is a wonder how anyone would be able to hear such a thing. It is also a wonder how these two can even hear each other speak. The noise outside is far too loud.

"Are you afraid?" Ciel scoffed. He was pretending to be snarky. He was pretending to act as if nothing was wrong. He didn't want to let Sebastian know he was afraid too. He wanted to believe that the wound hadn't hurt Sebastian at all. It was easier that way. Sebastian was meant to be the most powerful thing in the world. That was it. There should be nothing to defeat him. Nothing.

"Yes," Sebastian stated. He couldn't tell a lie, so, he might as well be on with it. Perhaps admitting the truth would make it easier to tolerate, in any case, it must be said, "I am afraid, because I might not be able to protect you as well as I had hoped."

Thunder boomed off in the distance. The two jumped. This was a fierce storm. What was causing it? And, who out there was using it to their advantage? Ciel curled back up into his ball. Sebastian wanted to hug him, but, he was still drenched. 

"Y-you'll do f-fine, S-sebastian," Ciel attempted to speak, "b-because y-your a Phantomh-hive b-butler."

As if in response to this statement, Sebastian grabbed his head and yelled out. He took a few steps backwards and continued to scream. It was unlike anything Ciel had ever heard or seen before. Sebastian had never acted in such a manner. What was going on? Why was this happening? Tonight of all nights? Or was it because, it was  _this_  night, that such a thing took place?

The butler's eyes glowed as he tried to suppress whatever it was he was trying to be rid of. Ciel wanted to ask if he was okay, but Ciel was too afraid. He was too afraid of the possibility that Sebastian might  _not_  be okay. What would he do then?

Without warning. Without hesitation. The butler opened the window. He let the rain in and jumped out. Ciel couldn't move. He wished to. He did. But he  _couldn't_. He was too shocked. He was too stuck in his bed. The rain hadn't stopped. It had only rained harder! What next? What else would go wrong?

Where was his butler going?

And would he ever come back?


	7. That Father; Resuscitation

A certain butler entered The Undertaker's shop; however, he didn't  _look_  like a butler at all. He looked like a man that had been wandering the streets for months, trying to find The Undertaker's hideaway. He looked like a man that had taken the very shirt he was wearing from a trash can. Or at least, a person lying on the street. This was not a man suitable of the Phantomhive name. So, who was he?

"Well this is a sight to see, isn't it?" The Undertaker chuckled, "I wasn't expecting to see  _you_  again so soon after our  _last_  visit."

"What have you done?" Sebastian's voice was laced with a concern that The Undertaker didn't understand. This was beyond strange. Sebastian wasn't acting like Sebastian. Sebastian's expressions, manner, and even the way he had walked through the door, all screamed someone else. What is this madness? Did the demon have a twin? Or had he finally gone insane from his hunger?

"Uny?" a head peaked out from behind a nearby door. A head that was stitched from multiple body parts. This man wasn't Vincent Phantomhive, but he looked quite similar. Sebastian's eyes widened and he fell to the ground from the shock. This couldn't be real, could it? No. The Undertaker couldn't be  _that_  obsessed, could he? However, he knew the truth. The Undertaker  _could_  be that obsessed. Anyone could be. That was simply the nature of the world in which they lived.

"Undertaker, tell me you didn't," Sebastian's eyes filled with tears. He cried. Sebastian?  _Crying?_  The Undertaker wanted to laugh so badly, but something was keeping him from doing so. Though, he couldn't place what that something was.

"Who is this?" the Vincent impostor asked, stepping out from behind the door. Even his  _clothes_  were similar to what the  _real_  Earl would have worn. Sebastian only continued sobbing. For what reason?

"Y-you're a reaper. You should  _know_  better than to mess with the  _dead!_ Undertaker, why,  _why_  have you done this? This isn't right! You should leave the dead as  _dead_! Why are you so consumed by my death? Undertaker,  _why?_ " Sebastian cried.

_Slap._

"Who do you think you are?!" The Undertaker yelled, "You are not Vincent! You're a demon! You're a  _disgrace!_  What is your purpose in being here? You? Judging  _my_  methods?! You're hardly one to talk! Look at yourself! You corrupt and collect souls! Is that really something to be  _proud_ of? Why shouldn't I have my own hobbies?!"

Sebastian looked at his hands, "ah, I see," he said, "you can't tell, can you? Because of this body..."

"What  _are_  you talking about?" 

Sebastian stood up, albeit wobbly, "I am not Sebastian, Undertaker," he smiled. He smiled a smile that The Undertaker knew all too well. No one could replicate  _that_  expression, not even the perfect imitation. 

The impostor Vincent stared before him, in admiration, at the soul possessing the demon. It was calling him for reasons he couldn't comprehend. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to reach out and grab it. Could he? Would The Undertaker get mad if he did? The creature stood still. He feared maddening his creator, so, he remained in one spot, hoping, with all of his heart, that The Undertaker wouldn't throw him away.

"Y-you were in him this whole time?" The Undertaker gasped. Such a thought had never crossed his mind! He could have had Vincent so much sooner if had he just entertained that idea!

"I'm fading, Undertaker," Sebastian, no,  _Vincent_ , stated. He had been possessing Sebastian's body for too long in one sitting. The demon's core was corrupting him. It was because of Sebastian that he had lasted this long. It would be because of Sebastian that he would disappear too. There was nothing to be done. Nothing. That was simply what was meant to be. Vincent was dead. His soul knew that his body was gone. He could not exist any longer.

"What do you mean?" The Undertaker asked, not wanting to believe that statement.

Vincent took a few steps closer, so that he could cup The Undertaker's face with his hands, "I'm dying. I'm not going to be able to see you ever again. You have to accept that. Okay? You have to get over me. Okay? Please? It is amazing that I've lasted this long. Accept this final conversation, and move on, please?" tears formed again; a steady stream ran down the demon's face. Vincent was crying. He didn't  _want_  to leave.

"I can't. Vincent. I can't. I love you. Why won't you let me love you? I need you Vincent! I  _need_  you," The Undertaker started crying as well. This was too much. This was too wrong. He had just gotten him back! And now he was leaving again! Who had placed such a cruel curse on him? Who had made it so that The Undertaker could not keep the one man that he loved?

"L-likewise," Vincent wobbled and fell forward. Luckily, The Undertaker caught him. He wrapped his arms around the male in front of him, pulling them both into a crestfallen embrace. They sobbed. The Undertaker decided to carefully lay Sebastian's body on the ground, so that Vincent wouldn't have to use too much energy to remain standing. He held him. They both stared into each other's eyes, wondering when this moment would be forced to end.

"I-" Vincent began.

"You shouldn't talk," The Undertaker interrupted, "you've said enough already."

Vincent nodded. His control over Sebastian's body was steadily decreasing. How much longer would he be able to maintain this? How much longer would he be able to spend with The Undertaker? No. He shouldn't think such thoughts. He should just be grateful for this opportunity. He should be happy for this chance to see The Undertaker one last time, as himself, and not through the eyes of the demon. 

Sebastian's body stiffened and stopped breathing for a moment. Vincent was no longer inside it. He was gone. The Undertaker could feel this fact. He wanted to yell out in sorrow, but, not a single noise would escape his lips. 

A hand placed itself on The Undertaker's shoulder. He didn't want to look. It was his creature. There wasn't another possibility. There had been no one else in this room but the three of them. Now that Vincent had been there, would he be able to look at the creature the same way? With the same hope he previously had?

"I must apologize," the creature spoke, "for being so shocked at this body. You do such nice work, Undertaker." Undertaker? The creature had only ever called him 'Uny.' The Undertaker turned his head. Did Vincent eject himself from Sebastian? To gain time by possessing this creature?

"Don't look at me with such a face. I may have stopped the attack that demon's body was giving me, but this doesn't change anything. I'm still fading," Vincent explained. "Before I fade. Let me say this," Vincent paused to kneel by The Undertaker. He brought his face closer, hesitating, but deciding to follow through with what he had planned to do, "I love you. Don't ever forget that, okay? But please, don't ever lose yourself again. Should this creature die, let it. Understand?"

The Undertaker nodded, accepting these words. It was a final request from Vincent. He  _must_  listen to it. Me  _must_  accept it, even if he would rather refuse to. Vincent kissed him, as long as he could, but eventually he disappeared. The creature, back in control of his own body, blushed and moved away from The Undertaker, embarrassed by what had just taken place.

"P-please don't hate me now," he begged, hiding his face with his hands, "I know I'm not him! That much I can tell. I don't know what happened or what took place between you two, but please, don't abandon me!" the creature sobbed, hiding his face.

The Undertaker smiled, "don't worry. I created you. There is no way I would abandon you now."

"Do you mean it?" the creature asked, his eyes peeking out between his fingers.

"Yes, I mean it," The Undertaker replied.


	8. Epilogue

"Where the hell have you been?!" Ciel raised his voice and glared at Sebastian.

"I apologize, Young Master, but it would seem that I have been possessed," the butler stated, bowing in an apologetic manner.

"You? A demon? Being possessed? What kind of joke is this?!" Ciel crossed his arms and frowned. His butler had appeared almost as suddenly as he had disappeared. But, he had arrived in tattered (rather smelly) clothing without any explanations! Did he really not remember much of what had happened?

"Vincent Phantomhive," Sebastian began, "he was resting in my body this entire time. I didn't notice it until he took full control of me..."

"M-my father? This entire time?"

"Yes. This entire time."

Ciel blushed, remembering all of the terrible things he did with Sebastian. Had Vincent seen all of that?! What miserable luck! Ciel banged his head against the wall, trying to rid himself of the terrible embarrassment that consumed him. To think! That such a thing could happen! He thought for sure he had seen the last of his father! But no! The man actually was inside Sebastian this entire time! What nonsense! What misery!

"There is no need to worry," Sebastian chuckled, "I'm certain he had no interest in our... _activities_."

"Are you certain?" Ciel stopped, a light trail of blood ran down his face.

"Quite certain," Sebastian lied. In truth, he had no clue, but he felt it would be best for Ciel to be at ease, otherwise, the male might do more damage to himself. Normally, Sebastian would be sure to tease Ciel as much as he could, but this time he decided to be kind. It wouldn't be right for him to take advantage of  _every_  opportunity. That would take the fun out of it.

"Thank God," Ciel breathed a sigh of relief. However, an expression of horror soon showed on his face, "he isn't still in there, is he?"

Sebastian shook his head, "He is not. The man known as Vincent Phantomhive is gone, completely."

Though the boy's face seemed relieved, Sebastian could tell that he was disappointed. He missed his father. What kid wouldn't? But, perhaps it was better this way. He couldn't keep living in the past. He couldn't keep worrying about things that couldn't be fixed. He had to look towards the future. He had to be happy with what he had, with _who_  he had.

"Sebastian..."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"How long are you going to stay like that? Do you realize that this manor has nearly been burned to the ground a thousand times without you?! Take a bath and get back to work! Do you hear me?! There are a lot of things you need to fix!" Ciel stated. He had barely survived without his butler. The servants had nearly killed him multiple times with the food that they managed to cook, or the things they managed to drop. It was good to have Sebastian back. Ciel didn't need to worry anymore. He also didn't need to worry about dying at the hands of his own servants anymore either. Which was a  _very_  good thing. 

Sebastian remained silent. He simply nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and one more thing," Ciel called, "don't you ever leave like that again, you hear me?!"

The butler looked over his shoulder, his hand resting on the doorknob, "did you worry about me, Young Master?"

"Of course not," Ciel puffed out his cheeks, "it's just, I'd rather not experience the servants messing everything up ever again. The Phantomhive manor isn't the same without you. Okay? That's all." Sebastian smiled, before opening the door to leave. It was time for him to go back to work. Hopefully, he'd never have to leave like that again, for both his sake, and Ciel's.

...

"Uny, where are my clothes?!" the creature looked around hastily trying to find his clothing. The Undertaker chuckled. He loved pulling pranks on his creation. It was too amusing.

"Whatever do you mean, Vin?" he asked, playing innocent.

"You know what I mean!" the creature blushed, he was covering himself with his hands and looking around. The Undertaker may have created him, but, that was no reason for him to go around showing off his body! It wasn't right! He needed clothes! Besides, all of these stitches made him feel self-conscious. He didn't look normal! He looked like a freak! And you know what freaks should do? Remain clothed.

"I don't see the problem with you walking around naked," The Undertaker grinned. He quite enjoyed his creation's body. That's why he made it after all. It was a perfect replica of Vincent. He hadn't changed a thing, except, well,  _one_  thing. The Undertaker couldn't exactly get rid of the stitch marks. He didn't want to either. They reminded him that this wasn't the same person. This was a new person. He must remember that always. 

"Well it is a big problem!" the creature frowned, continuing to blush like a tomato with sunburn.

"Why?"

"Uh, well, that is," the creature looked around. How was he supposed to answer that question? He couldn't very well say that he thought of himself as ugly, could he? That didn't seem quite right. The Undertaker would just scold him for thinking such things.

The Undertaker tilted his head to the side. He remained silent until the creature showed some sign of giving a response. Would he ever answer? If he didn't, The Undertaker would just have to tease him some more. That was always an option. Actually, that was a great option. The Undertaker stood up and walked towards his creation. He stood in front of him, and began to trace the marks. 

"W-what are you d-doing?!" 

"You're embarrassed because of these, aren't you?" The Undertaker sighed, "even though I put so much work into making them."

"That's part of the r-reason..."

"What is the other part?" 

"I get extra nervous without clothes," the creature mumbled, looking at the ground, "it's very difficult to hide when you get hard if you don't have clothes on! Uh, well, it would be difficult  _with_  clothes on too. But. It makes it a lot more obvious without them!" the creature looked as if he was about to faint from embarrassment.

"Oh my," The Undertaker chuckled, "so my innocent little Vin knows what 'getting hard' means." The Undertaker closed the gap a bit between them, "are you hard at this very moment?" 

"N-no?"

"That's not very convincing."

"I'm s-sorry..."

"Shall I just check for myself?"

"Please don't!"

"Too late!~"

...

And so, their lives continued on. The butler and his master. The creation and his creator. Each individual happy to spend time with the other, for as long as they could, until they couldn't any longer. They never looked back. They only looked forward. That was what they must do, for that was what they had promised themselves to do. And they were happy with this. They could live their lives, with no regrets, enjoying every moment to the fullest. Who would have it any other way?


End file.
